


Methostorture

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Boys in Chains, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-12-07
Updated: 1999-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:14:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WARNING! Not for the faint of heart. Stay away if blood makes you icky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Methostorture

"Kronos," Methos gasped, staring down at his chest in shock. He had forgotten how much knives hurt. Dying came back to him quickly, though. He smelled the oil from the pavement, and then nothing.

He woke up, cold and naked, sprawled on the wheel. He tried to move, but the more intense, heavy cold on his ankles and wrists secured him to the wheel. Once he became more aware, he realized he was chained.

Not good. Oh, not good at all. He banged his head against the wheel behind him and felt the vibrations through his scalp. It was more than just the cold that made his testicles shrink and the goosebumps rise along his arms.

The warning came, and Kronos stood between his lewdly spread legs. Methos rested his head against the metal for a second to keep himself from saying something he'd regret in a moment. He had to relax. Kronos would have taken his head already if he wanted only that. It was the other things Kronos wanted that made his throat tight.

Kronos smiled at him, but it didn’t relieve his anxiety. His brother knelt down and rested a hand on his upper thigh, letting the heat of his body on Methos. Despite the uncomfortable pull on his arm sockets, the bone-numbing chill, and the gut-wrenching fear, Methos' habitual reaction to his brother was stronger than he was, even now.

"I see you've missed me as well, brother," Kronos said, eyeing Methos' cock. "Pity. I was hoping you wouldn't enjoy this."

"Still annoyed at being buried alive?" Methos asked. There was always a chance the answer might be 'no.'

Kronos' nails dug into Methos’ thigh, and he couldn't even curl up around the pain. The blood ran down his thigh as Kronos kept up the pressure. The pain wasn't as intense as he’d expected, but his revival could have partially numbed him. It seemed dull to him, at least.

Kronos must have noticed his lack of reaction, and maybe that, made him let go. Cruelly, the pain did nothing to kill Methos’ budding erection. Kronos still smelled of Kronos, leather and loyalty, in his own insane way. He suspected it was the betrayal, rather than the imprisonment, that had kept Kronos after him.

Kronos only smiled, running his knuckles through the bloody streaks trailing down Methos’ leg, bringing them to his lips to lick clean.

The surge of power from his healing body , so close to his groin, was maddening. He threw his head back, moving his hips to dampen some of the raw energy his body had created to close the wounds . He glanced up to see Kronos licking his lips.

"You've always been a slut, Methos. The only question is, whose whore are you now?"

 

Methos shuddered as Kronos dropped down to both knees.

"Whose whore are you?" Kronos repeated, taking out a knife.

The word came to him before he could argue it internally. "Yours," he whispered.

Kronos' laugh was nothing but mockery. "Well, a whore with a silver tongue. You've certainly developed that since we parted company," Kronos said, and then moved over him, stroking Methos’ neck with his dagger. "Open your mouth."

The blade was as warm as Kronos' body. Methos parted his lips as the healing energy dispelled back into his body, leaving him helplessly erect. Kronos pressed the blade into his mouth, and Methos choked on the feel of the razor edge catching on his taste buds. The metal clanked against his teeth, and he tried not to gag as the point pressed against the back of his throat. He couldn't stop himself, and suddenly his mouth filled with hot, salty blood as his tongue was sliced open. No serious damage, but enough for him to almost choke; he had no choice but to swallow or drown in it.

Kronos only smiled again, pulling away.

The pain would have made Methos gasp, but he couldn't take a deep enough breath without inhaling the blood into his lungs. "You bastard," he managed between swallows. Blood in his stomach always made him vomit. Kronos knew that, damn it.

"I'm a bastard? I should have cut out your lying tongue before you whispered any more false, sweet things to me, brother. Do you think you can save yourself with your other talents?"

Kronos was mad enough to do it. Methos looked away as wound slowly healed. He looked back, and Kronos was kissing him, licking the blood off his teeth and lips. Kronos' tongue was hot against him, demanding his participation. The slight nip on his lip was warning enough. Methos flinched at the insignificant pain.

When Kronos finally backed away and wiped his mouth, blood smeared over his forearm.

Safety pins. Methos stared at both of them. They were almost as long as Kronos' index finger and as thick as a pencil. Well, not quite, but it seemed that way, especially after Kronos started pinching his nipples. Methos fought for the first time and almost caught Kronos off guard.

His brother backhanded him, stunning him for an instant, and the first blunt tip thrust through his skin. The pain was electrifying. Kronos' heavy hand clamped down over his mouth as he tried to take a breath to scream, cutting off his air. That was worse than the actual pain. His mind spun as he struggled for air, and he writhed in agony. Nipple, throat, lungs, the pain seemed to attack from all sides.

By the time Kronos let him breathe, the pin was through his flesh. Closing it caused him more agony, centred on the one nipple and travelling through his spine to the rest of his body, but his lungs were too sore to even let him try to cry out.

"It's a pity your hands are busy. I wanted you to do this one yourself," Kronos whispered. But no matter how much he pinched or slapped, he couldn't get the second nipple to stand up. Methos was too tired and too full of pain. Kronos smiled at the challenge, and then crouched down until his leather pants touched Methos' forgotten cock. Kronos shifted slightly and smiled at the immediate reaction.

He lapped at the blood gathered around Methos' pierced flesh; Methos’ body tried to heal itself around the invader. Kronos' hips still moved against him, and Methos groaned as Kronos' tongue came out and flicked the nipple. He sucked on it, raked his teeth over it, and then withdrew and just blew on in, directing his breath up and down, and then left and right.

Methos didn't have a chance. He accepted the second piercing as his due, only shuddering as the hinge was jerked up and over the clasp. Kronos tugged at the still bleeding wound, agitating it just enough to keep from healing. The blood warmed his flesh, the flush of his body responding to Kronos' energy, and soon he was helplessly thrusting against the body on top of him. Anything to make it longer or harder.

Kronos suddenly pulled away, leaving him cold and horny.

"Brother, please."

"Not yet. You have to atone."

The words got muddled as he tried to think with his hard-on brain. If Kronos wanted simple begging, he could do that. He opened his mouth, but Kronos' hand slammed against it again. His teeth cut into his bottom lip.

"Not like that."

Methos' heart landed against the back of his ribcage. Kronos removed his hand. "Then how?" he asked, flatly.

Kronos took the knife up again. The tip dug into the thin flap of skin attaching Methos’ thigh to his ass. Methos hissed, pulling away as much as he could, but chained open as he was, there wasn't anywhere to go. The knife snaked around, pressing a quarter of a inch into his body. Methos opened his mouth, ready to scream or beg or fight, but dread stole his energy.

"No," he whispered.

"Oh, yes," Kronos hissed.

The pain was sudden, stinging more than actually hurting, and a single drop of blood dripped out of him, running down the crack of his ass, itching as it ran down him.

Methos looked up, eyes wide, and then the knife slammed inside him. The pain was liquid and dancing, and for a moment, Methos thought the heat from the wound would be enough to cauterize it. He clenched against the wound as much as he could for a second, staring at Kronos in absolute shock, and then the blade was yanked out again. His bowels didn't loosen so much as disintegrated. Skin, muscles, tendons, he felt the flesh peeling back from the blade as Kronos thrust it inside him again.

He started hemorrhaging as Kronos dropped the knife and replaced it with his cock. Methos forgot he was spread like a sacrificial lamb and tried to crab-walk away from the pain, but only managed to yank at his shoulder and hips. The pain was like nothing that had come before, and as with the agitation of the safety pin, his body couldn't heal as Kronos kept up his assault. He was dying again, feeling his hands and feet go numb with cold as the rest of his body's blood ran out over Kronos' cock and down to the floor beneath him.

Kronos' eyes never left his. Just as the numbness spread from his hands and feet, up his arms and legs to settle in his chest, Kronos reached up and yanked out the pins.

He never knew whether he died before or after the last pin was torn from his body.

 

 

He woke up again, only this time he was dressed and unchained. Kronos stood over him again, still carrying the chains.

"How do you feel?" Kronos asked.

The End.


End file.
